Independence
by Simple Chaos
Summary: One mistake can cost the lives of thousands.  Everything rests on the shoulders of  girl whose thread was woven from one still alive.  And so the Fates are forced to watch the unfolding of a destiny even they can't control.  A destiny they created.
1. Three Mistakes

**AN: Sorry to the What We Understand fans, but my heart just wasn't in it. Though this was going to be the sequel.**

To this day, no one knows who should hold the blame. Did Klotho not spin enough thread? Perhaps Lakhesis did not properly measure the length of it. Was his thread cut prematurely by Atropos? Whatever the cause, Nico Di Angelo was going to die a premature death.

This was the first mistake.

But he was crucial to the existence of so many others. Including themselves. So they did something they had never done before. They had Klotho spin the end of his thread into another's.

This was the second mistake.

They spun the end of his thread with that of hundreds of others. But the result was the same. The thread would stay for a moment, but only for a moment before it frayed and came apart in two separate sections. But the time for fixing would soon be over. And so, with possibly minutes left, they wove a new thread from the last of a dying one, recreating it with enough strength to bind the two life forces. But if they were to work quick enough to save both lives, there was no chance Lakhesis had to decide the life of the old thread. And so, an accidental loose thread was left hanging. Because there was no set life for her, it was up to those around Aly to create her life.

This was the third, and final, mistake.


	2. Wishing on Dandelions

**AN: Going on a weeklong trip to D.C. No laptop, but I'll update as soon as I can once I get back.**

_Flashes, in my mind. Faster and faster. Hunger. Famine. Disease. Faster and faster in my mind. I couldn't see the images anymore, though the words they represented still echoed in my head for me to hear. Poverty. Life. Death. _Chaos._ That was the word that filled the gaps in my brain until I thought my head would explode from the sheer sound of it all. Over and over it chanted. War. Chaos. Blood. Chaos. Order. Chaos. Order. Chaos. Back and forth in my head, they fought. Order. Chaos. Battle. War. Blood. Death. Chaos._

_I couldn't win. Fighting. War. Chaos. Over and over. There was no way to win. Chaos. Chaos. Chaos. Overwhelming me. Engulfing me. Chaos, Chaos, Chaos._

_The pictures slowed, the images forever burning themselves into my retinas. Slower and slower. War. Disease. Famine. Life. Death. Chaos. Chaos. And finally it rested on me. Me, as I was exactly then. It was watching me. It wanted me to know it was watching me. And it wasn't the first time. We knew that too._

_More pictures. Yesterday, last week. Months, even years ago. With every picture, I looked a little less strained, my face a little rounder, and I got shorter and shorter. When I was potty trained. When I learned to walk. Panic overwhelmed me. How long had this thing been watching me? My first laugh, my first peaceful night. My birth._

"_Come," it whispered. "Fight. It is your fate. It is your responsibility." No. No, I couldn't. I can't. "It is useless to fight me. You know this already. Fight with me. Fight or die."_

I woke up shivering. Listening hard, I could hear some people still on the streets. But there wasn't any immediate threat, so I sat up. A glance at the clock told me it was an unreasonably early time to be up. My favorite time of day. I climbed out of bed and glanced out the window. The sun hadn't even risen yet.

I made my way to the back of the house and looked both ways out the door before stepping out and pulling it shut behind me. I sat down on the grass, just in front of the back porch. The lawn was still wet with dew, which quickly soaked through my thin pajama pants. Not that I cared.

I stayed sitting there until the light from the sun shown just enough that I could make out the street behind me, if I craned my neck around. I had deliberately put my back to the street. I didn't want to see what I knew took place there every day at this time. And I hated thinking about it. I sat there, barely hidden behind around the side of my house, until I heard the gunshots. I stared down at the ground as if it were the cause of all of it. Of everything.

I came out here every morning since the day three years ago. To remind myself to never let it happen again. But I wouldn't cry. I hadn't since that day. Like every day, I plucked the dandelion closest to me. But this time, as I blew the seeds off the plant, I wished. I wished with all my heart that someone would get me out of this place.


	3. Blood and Cuts

**Author's Notes: Because I deleted the story this was going to go in, here it (finally) is. This is for you, apollo's girl 136.**

"Pass me a hair tie."

"Sorry, all out."

A few choice words slipped out of my mouth. "Coach is gonna have my head," I groaned.

The bell rang and everyone split. If I wasn't out there is ten seconds, I was dead. But I didn't care. I just glared down at the floor.

"C'mon, I, if you stay here, it'll only be worse. Aly?"

"… Toss me your shoe."

"Why?"

"Shoe. Now."

Sighing, she handed over the shoe. I tore the shoelace out and wrapped it around my thick chunk of blonde hair. In the distance was yelling. Coach. We sprinted out the door, Madeline following close behind me, struggling to get her shoe on.

We were what people here called "disinclined socially" with "improper etiquette for public association," which, by the principle of the thing, means that I am her only friend. And she's mine.

"Late again, I see," Coach rumbled. An hour on the track after school. No excuses."

"I don't think he's human," I hissed in Madeline's ear, sprinting to the track. "No human being could be that evil."

She looked at me with big, shock-wide eyes. "I think you're right," she whispered. She stared at me for a moment before I broke out in muffled snorts of laughter. Not the best idea when you're sprinting, I must say.

"Shut up and run!" Coach yelled vehemently, glaring at us.

"What's Ms. Rogers doing out here?" Madeline whispered once we were out of Coach's earshot. The woman in question was standing in the middle of the track, hands on her hips. She shouted something to Coach and he motioned us over.

"Ms. Rogers said you two were supposed to see her this period for an out of class project, Aly," he grumbled. "Is this correct?"

Madeline gave me a look and started to deny it, but I elbowed her in the gut.

"Absolutely, sir." Grumbling, he motioned me to return to the school building with Mrs. Rogers.

"Why did you do that?"

"It's better than track," I murmured.

When we stepped into the school building I yanked the shoelace out of my hair, wincing. I looped it around my wrist for the time being. "I'd like to discuss the possibility of you joining yearbook committee. It could get you out of classes," Mrs. Rogers added, seeing the look on my face. "I have something here I wanted to show you, in fact."

She started patting her pockets and looking around the room. "I must have left the film in the other room across the hall," she said. "Edward," she called into the hall, "would you be a dear and run into my other classroom to get the yearbook film?"

He nodded and retreated down the hall. Ms. Rogers locked the door and turned to me. "What is it?" she hissed, circling me. "I must know what it is!" She took a step closer, then another, and I backed up as she went. "You know what it is," she said. Just then, my back bumped against something solid. The door. "Just tell me what it is and you can go free with minor injuries," she hissed, her form flickering into _Eurynomos_, the ancient Greek equivalent of a zombie. She continued forward, faster this time. It was like standing on a railroad track. You could see the train coming, but you were too busy staring wide-eyed and scared at it to think to move.

The door rattled behind me as I desperately tried to unlock the door without taking my eyes off of the creature. "What is it?" she hissed. The door rattled again.

"Duck," Madeline whispered through the door. Madeline? I dropped to my knees just as the glass window above my head shattered. There was a blur of movement in my peripheral vision as I ducked my head and buried my face in my hands. When I stood back up, all that was left was a pile of sulfurous dust and Madeline, covered in the stuff, a bow and arrow resting lightly in her right palm. Cursing, she grabbed my arm and pulled me to the corner of the room.

"Go home and collect your things. We have to leave. Now. I'll explain later," she gasped.

I nodded and walked into the hall, around the corner to where she couldn't see me. I sank to the floor in the hallway and put my head down. Gods, I felt light headed. Maybe if I just lied down and stayed here, Madeline would forget about me. Suddenly, that sounded like the best idea ever. Lying down. _Sleeping_. What a beautiful word. I think I'll take a nap right now. With so much craziness going on, I needed a minute to let it all sink in. Just a minute… or two….

* * *

><p>"Aly? Aly, wake up!" I groaned. I opened my eyes a crack and found Madeline hovering over me. I groaned again and snapped my eyes shut. "Aly, wake up!" I ignored her and rolled over on my side. I bolted up and barely bit back a whimper.<p>

"_Gods_, that hurt," I hissed, gingerly touching the right side of my face.

"Casey, go get Chiron. She's awake."

"What the hell even happened? And where am I?" I asked her.

"Your cut," she said, pointing to the right side of my face**. **"It was worse than I thought. You passed out from blood loss."

"And I am… where?"

"Camp. I'll have Chiron explain everything later. Until then, get some rest. You need it."

"I'm not tired. Send him in now."

"No, Aly. You really need your rest," she said, pushing me back into a laying position.

"_I'm not tired_," I said again. "_Send him in now_."

"No."

I stood up and made my way to the door, despite numerous protests by Madeline. By the time I reached the Big House, she was pulling on my arms as hard as she dared with my blood loss, trying to get me back to the infirmary. Chiron answered the door before I had even nocked and stepped out on the porch.

"I'm sorry, Chiron. I tried to keep her there, but she just wouldn't listen, and I didn't want to hurt her after her incident, but-"

Chiron silenced Madeline. "Come now child, no harm has been done. I suggest you go back to your cabin. I can handle our newest camper." Nodding obediently, Madeline retreated to a cluster of small, house-like cabins, looking back often. Once she had finally disappeared behind a row of cabins, I turned to Chiron.

"From my birth I have been taught of the gods," I said abruptly. "I know the myths backward and forward, the gods' names in order of power and birth rank, Greek, Roman, and Celtic all. I know the history of every camp for Roman, Celtic, Greek, and Filipino demigods from the moment such camps were founded. I have been taught to fight as if one of the Roman legion and have dappled in Greek and various Celtic fighting forms. I know the every how, what, where, and when of how this camp works. I have no interest in beating around the bush. I thank you for any and all help that you may have provided, with or without my knowledge. However, I request you withdraw as much. I have been taught to fight and to live as anyone here would. With or without your permission, I must leave. I have no need for such a place as this," I finished, quite aware that my tone was laced with disgust by the end of my little speech.

Chiron, however, didn't seem to be startled by any of this information. "While you may not need it, this camp and the campers here need you. We are in the midst of a great war and we need all the help we can get, from anyone we can get. While you will not be forced to stay," he said, looking at me meaningfully, "I seriously suggest you put much consideration into the values of your friends' lives. I am sure Madeline would be much disappointed, were you not to fight alongside her and her sisters. However, that is a matter you must discuss in private." He nodded his head in the direction of the infirmary. "There are showers in the infirmary. Go get cleaned up. Think about it for a day. You may move your things to the undetermined cabin if you wish. Should you choose to leave, you are welcomed to stay in the undetermined cabin until you are fully rested and well. The camp will provide transportation to get you home."

I nodded my thanks and shuffled into the infirmary. In the back of the building, there was a hallway with a row of bathrooms. I stepped into the first one and shut the door, locking it. I ran a hand through my hair. It was thick and damp, and I had a feeling it wasn't from sweat. I couldn't look at it yet. I grabbed my wrist before muttering a curse. No hair ties. Sighing, I wrapped Madeline's shoelace around my hair and forced myself not to look at the mirror. I set the shower to a cool temperature and stepped in, making sure to keep my head well out of the spray. I scrubbed the blood from my skin, leaving behind only the tiny pink lines that dotted my shoulders and arms that I had gathered from previous fights, as well as from the window.

I didn't want any ambrosia for them. The scars were a part of me. They would stay. It worried me to think of how bad my head must have been. I wasn't quite sure they had used ambrosia for it, though I was sure Madeline knew I wouldn't want any.

Despite the cool temperature of the water, the room started to steam. I unfixed the shoelace from my hair and slowly slipped my head under the showerhead, left first, then right. I tensed when the spray met the cut on my head, but I stayed silent. I watched my feet as they were flooded by the stream of water. Slowly, the water started turning darker and darker. The water rushing down the drain was the dark red-brown color of half dried blood. I gently worked the shampoo through my hair, flinching when it stung my scalp.

I stepped out of the shower and pulled on a set of clothes the campers had left for me. I raked my fingers through the hair from the left side of my head. I didn't dare touch the right side. I didn't want to leave just yet though. So, I sat down in the middle of the floor. I stayed there until the steam had long gone and I had adjusted to the cold air that surrounded me. I didn't know what I was watching or listening for, if I was at all. Finally, I stood and, though intending to open the door, stopped short. I had caught my reflection in the mirror.

The entire right side of my head was covered in hair the rich carmine color of dried blood. I didn't know what I expected, but that was not it. I doubled over and started breathing deeply. _Well, they definitely didn't use any ambrosia._ How much blood did it take to stain my hair that color? I had never seen so much blood that it stained. So much blood. _My _blood. The deep breaths soon became gagging, loud and echoing in the otherwise silent room. _So much blood. So much blood, my blood_.

I leaned over the toilet and retched, again and again. After a while the retching settled into a rhythmic gagging. I wiped the bile and blood mixture off my mouth before departing. I was leaving the infirmary if I had to be carted out, retching up my own blood as I went.

I hadn't brought anything, so I simply left to the cabin. The cabin was plain, relatively small, and uninhabited. Until the horn was blown for dinner, I sat on the edge of my bed, staring off in space. I stood and made my way to the door.

_Oh, joy_.

**Reviews are loved!**


	4. Break

**Sorry, but I need to take a break on this fic right now. I'm a one- or two-a-time fic girl, and I can't concentrate on the story with so many plots bouncing around in my head, begging to be written. What's more, I know exactly where this fic is going. I just don't know how to get there. After a few more stories are emptied from my head, and I figure out a few plot quirks, I promise, I **_**will**_** continue this. Just not exactly right yet.**


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